RITHULI ORLEYN

GOD

GOD is no-more mysterious than the
odds of swimming through the sewer of township past year-20 mark word up biko
god is the miracle of odds that got you through the door called year-zero where
other 14 year-old moms like yours made it there on a siyaya taxi and on arrival
in that backyard questionable clinic greeted your could-have-been zizamele
preschool mates shook their hands and beheld their downcast eyes in red tone
skin marveled at their best behaved umnqayi-in-hand cultural etiquette saw them
twice as bundle of joy wrapped in blanket xa bephuma well more like hoped for
it but didn’t make it out of the hospital let alone out of esuthwini god is the
chance that you are not one in half-that-marikana lot amakrwala oomgcineni
whose muffled massacres don’t get to be tv newsrooms worthy and shwashwi front
cover topical you were not botched in the bloodstains of choice though god
gives us all choice first long before she gives us the gift of life god gave you
the miracle of both “Ii-blades zeengcibi-lenkce zamampondo hustling a quick
buck this december at the expense of 20 plus patriarchs” again did not touch
even the strand of your hair god is the odds that all you got was the name trash on facebook at worst god is the
sunrise that has you frying eggs ne bisto this side of free-from-polio-scare
dance floor he is the words “I made it” out your mouth the morning after your
black friday kuyafiwa kwasesh and 16 december undead life god is the two feet
you surf trains with elokshin just because “so bored” just because “sbwl” your
would have been salukabakho gone awol is the measure of how thick the shield of
the blood of the lamb in your devil-may-care-life this december is you see god
exists don’t let them unbelievers fool you he is the piecemeal miracles their
drop-by-drop collection through which it is a possibility that you are not
merely remains of blood clots on a nappy or sanitary towel in that backyard
clinic 25 years ago god is the throw of the dice for sure but one reshuffled by
year twenty five he’s the push-back that got you sane and safe with your junior
degree from that mental institution called rhodes wits and u c fucking t.